


Suffocated and Scared

by MadameBumblebee



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Angry Sex, Barebacking, Extreme Distress, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Italian Mafia, Kidnapping, M/M, Molestation, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessiveness, One-Sided Relationship, Overprotective, Overprotective Behavior, Overprotectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Possessiveness, Protective, Protective Behavior, Protectiveness, Sexual Frustration, Size Difference, Strangulation, Unsafe Sex, Violent Sex, possessive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBumblebee/pseuds/MadameBumblebee
Summary: A young boy is taken to repay his father's debt to an Italian Mafia Boss.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 30





	1. Ghost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> A little played out, I know, but I promise to make it worthwhile!

_Do you ever have one of those days where as soon as you get home you go straight to sleep? Today felt like one of those days. Just like yesterday and the day before yesterday...and then the day before that._

A young boy was making his way down an old, cracked sidewalk. Backpack in hand, trying his best not to slip on the ice while a police siren wailed in the distance. He took a deep, slow inhale, the cold city air tickling his nose as he exhaled, breath clearly visible. His eyes lazily gazed at the sky. Gray again. Just like yesterday and the day before yesterday.

He liked to take this time to reflect on the school day. The day of nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Each day was the exact same, he got up, walked to school, completed the work for each class and then wandered the halls with his nose in a book before the final bell rang. It truly felt like he was invisible, like he was a ghost. He would be lying if he said he hasn't written it off as a possibility, it would explain why he felt so dead inside.

He's never felt as much excitement for school as the other kids had, but then again, he can't recall a time where he felt much about anything. Loneliness. Mainly loneliness and the occasional sadness. He can't even recall a time where he's spoken to a fellow student, always being much too shy. Everyone ignored him, even the teachers ignored him. It was better to be ignored than a target he supposed...

But he wasn't ignored just at school, he was ignored at home as well. 

It was just him and his dad. His dad used to be such an upbeat, funny guy, constantly cracking dad jokes that he cringed at at the time but missed so deeply now...Ever since mom left them to be with her new husband across the country he spiraled into a deep depression which resulted in him losing his job.

He wasn't completely certain, but he's pretty sure his dad has gotten involved in some shady business in order to compensate for his lost job, spending his days in the basement yelling unintelligible threats into the phone, leaving at odd hours in the early morning to do who knows what.

With his mom gone, he took over all the household chores. Not that his dad had asked him to, his dad never asked him to do anything. Many would probably envy that fact, but he hated it. He wished his dad would nag him about his chores, about getting his homework done, his eating choices. Just something to show that he still cared, that he was still his dad.

He didn't mind the chores, he really didn't. It was a mindless activity that distracted him from his plaguing thoughts. There was one chore, however, that he always looked forward to. He loved to cook for his dad, whenever he got the chance to he did. It was an excuse to see him, it was the only time he ever saw him really.

He would carefully prepare whatever it was he was cooking and slowly creek open the basement door, sheepishly walking down the stairs, almost shaking from the nervousness of hearing his father's booming voice furiously shouting at whoever was on the other line of the phone. Upon seeing him, he would always hang up and shoot him a genuine smile, expression and voice so soft despite the few seconds prior.

He would usually just take the plate from him and place it on his desk, dismissing him with a gentle hair ruffle or kiss on the head along with a "thanks, sweetheart." Those moments are what would get him through the cold, lonely days.

His thoughts were interrupted upon realizing he'd walked right past his door, quickly backtracking and placing his backpack down on the pavement, rustling through its content before finally finding the house key, unlocking the door with only a brief struggle. He closely closed the door behind him, removing his coat and tossing it over one of the kitchen chairs.

Before making his way upstairs to his room, he paused for a brief moment at the ajar basement door. There was his father, phone glued to the side of his head as usual, feet kicked up on his desk, an annoyed look plastered on his face as he took a quick drag of a cigarette before snapping a hostile remark into the phone.

He let out a soft sigh before tiptoeing up to his room, swiftly undressing and collapsing onto his bed, burying himself in one of his cheap, polyester blankets before falling into a deep sleep.


	2. A Debt Unpaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the extremely short chapter, they won't be this short, I really just wanted to get something out and let the few people reading this know that I plan to try and update regularly. Thanks for reading!

A man stepped out from an extravagant building, pausing at the second step to light up a cigarette. People walked past him on the bustling sidewalk, only a few giving him a quick glance before picking up their pace.

He took a few hits off the cigarette before looking down at his watch, annoyance spreading across his face just as a black car pulled up.

He slowly made his way over to the vehicle and swung open the door, "It's about fucking time," he muttered coldly, slamming the door back shut once he'd slid onto the seat.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I-" the nervous driver began, the man obviously not caring to listen as he picked up his vibrating cellphone.

"Hello?" It was a greeting, but it was anything but welcoming.

The voice on the other end answered in an uneasy tone, "Mr.Romanov, uh, sir, we have a bit of a problem..."

"Speak," he ordered.

"Right, Mr.Hayes hasn't paid us back for the eighty grand in...materials and we haven't been able to get ahold of him in months, we think he's trying to get out of paying us back," the man finished, a silence washing over them as he awaited a response.

" _Well then, I guess we'll have to pay Mr.Hayes a little visit,_ " he replied, hostility lacing each word, ending the call before the other could even say goodbye.

He let out a deep sigh and turned to look through the thick, bullet-proof window.

He had become in charge of these affairs ever since his father's passing about a month prior, a death that actually warranted him such a high ranking position, the boss. He may not have even taken over if not for his father's untimely death, his father having doubts after finding out about his...love for boys a week prior. He had hidden it well up until that point.

Not that it would have mattered much anyway, he would have found a way to become mafia boss, a title that has always been rightfully his. He definitely wasn't upset about his father's passing, quite frankly, he could never stand the incompetent bastard. Always knowing that since the day he was born that he was the one that belonged at the top, not him, that he could turn this poor excuse of a mafia into a true empire. If anything, he was upset that he hadn't been the one to kill the weakling himself.

With him in control, things were going to be different, that's for sure. Starting with this impending visit with Mr.Hayes. Normally, his father would have just sent one of his men to deal with a problem concerning such a small sum of money, but he really wanted to make the impression that, as the new boss, he wasn't to be fucked with. First impressions matter, after all. Anyone that messes with him or his business will learn to consider death as a blessing.

_See you soon, Mr.Hayes._


	3. A Debt Paid

There, sitting directly across from him at the dining room table, was none other than Mr.Romanov himself. Not a lot of people gave him the creeps, but Mr.Romanov definitely did. He'd only heard stories about him, him making quite the name for himself ever since becoming in charge. All he knew is that if any of those stories held even a shred of truth, he was royally fucked.

He was easily able to finesse his way out of trouble with the old man, but he got a feeling it wouldn't be as easy with this guy.

He looked eerily calm as he stared at him, friendly even, but his eyes told a completely different story, piercing into the very core of his soul with unfathomable levels of fury, making his hair stand on end.

He had a bad feeling about this.

"So, Mr.Hayes..." The man began, instantly capturing his full attention. "It has come to my attention that you are yet to repay your debt, since this is a first and you've caught me in a good mood, I'm willing to let this slip-up slide as long as you repay your debt in full. Now," he said casually.

He scratched at his stubble, slightly nervous about how the man will respond to what he was about to say. "I don't know what to tell you, man. I don't have it, I'm going to need another month or two, at least."

Surprisingly, this didn't seem to faze the man, him simply replying with, "I see." 

He was expecting the man to just give up and leave, something the previous had always done, maybe give an empty threat, but he didn't. The male instead holding his position as he stared him down, seemingly in thought.

It all happened so fast. One second he was lazily slumped over in his seat, the next he was face flat on the ground, one of Romanov's men pulling his arm behind him with the sure threat of breaking it, his knee digging dangerously hard into his neck.

"H-Hey! What are you-"

"Search the house."

-

He looked down in disgust at the pathetic man before him, squirming around like a maggot on the floor, yelling unintelligible curses as if this wasn't completely warranted, as if they were the ones in the wrong.

Don't borrow money or drugs you can't pay back, it's a simple concept, really.

He turned his attention away from the man, casually walking past his determined men digging through Mr.Hayes' cupboards and floorboards.

He noticed a staircase to his right and began to slowly ascend, pausing at the top to fix his slightly disheveled hair in a mirror hanging on the wall. For a trap house, it was surprisingly clean and tidy. Still shitty, but cleanly, which he could appreciate.

"Creak..."

He whipped his head around at the small, nearly silent sound, immediately withdrawing his gun. 

He began to creep slowly towards the source of the sound, stopping in front of a slightly ajar door. With his gun still raised, he nudged the door the rest of the way open with his foot, the doorknob quietly hitting the wall. 

It was a small bedroom with a small bed, with an even smaller boy tucked under the covers.

He lowered his gun, not taking his eyes off the boy, tilting his head slightly. He slowly inched towards the boy, taking a knee right at the edge of his bed, right next to the boy's sleeping face. How the boy managed to stay asleep through all the racket downstairs, he had no idea.

He continued to ogle at the boy's sleeping form, unable to take his eyes away. He brought up a hesitant hand and gently swept a few strands of fuzzy, brown hair from his face. 

He was beautiful.

No, not beautiful, gorgeous. That wasn't the right word either, stunning. No, wrong again. Words simply could not describe the boy's rare, delicate beauty.

He had to have him.

He hated to take him away, seeing as he looked so warm and cozy, but he would just have to forgive him. He carefully equipped the needle from his pocket and removed the cap, giving it a quick flick before bringing it up to the boy's fragile throat, the needle piercing through his soft skin.

He awoke at this, his eyes widening in shock as his hand gripped his neck where the needle had entered. He didn't want to give him a second more to react so he pulled the boy into a forced embrace, holding him in such a way where he was immobile.

"Shhh-shhh-shh, it's okay, stop struggling," he lulled. Not that he was going to have much of a choice pretty soon here.

He continued in his struggle for a few moments, weakly crying out for his dad before going deathly limp.

He waited a minute or two before he carefully scooped him up and left the room as quietly as he had come, descending down the long set of stairs.

"Sir, we didn't find anything of value," one of his men stated.

"That's okay, because I did," he chimed back in an uncharacteristically dreamy fashion.

Mr.Hayes turned his head at this, still being pinned to the ground, covered in a few fresh cuts and bruises. "Wha-WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BOY!?" he bellowed.

"I think you mean _my_ boy," he argued.

Hayes' expression fell at this, filling to the brim with a mixture of worry and dread, his tone quickly losing its venom and becoming panicky and desperate. "N-No! No! Please don't take my boy, he-he's all I have left...I-I'll pay you back double-TRIPLE what I owe you, any price, just _please_ don't take my boy."

He couldn't help but chuckle at this, nothing was more amusing than watching someone completely break. "No, that won't be necessary, Mr.Hayes, I'm more than happy with accepting him as payment."

He stepped right past the distressed, blubbering man on the floor, the man screaming some nonsense like, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" The ridiculous claim making him scoff, he does whatever he damn well pleases, always has. 

Before exiting, he turned to give one last remark to Mr.Hayes, the man in a state of obvious shock and disbelief. " _It was a pleasure doing business with you._ "

And with that, he was out the door, his men following not much later, Mr.Hayes scrambling to chase them out the door, their long, black limo already pulling away before he could even make it to the sidewalk.


End file.
